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The illness of

It's the middle of October, humid and raining. I have four midterms, a column, LSAT class and meetings. I don't have time to think, let alone say hello to my sweet and social neighbors. As I sprint to the 30th thing I have to do today, it hits me.

Is this it? Is this what I was hoping for when I looked at the glossy cover of the Virginia application and fervently filled it out to get in early?

But I realize I cannot complain. We all have too much to do, always taking on more and more and more until, well, we snap ... or fail at one of the many things we do.

My new favorite, life-defining show, post-"Sex in the City," is "Grey's Anatomy." If you have not seen it, you are missing out. I'll spare you my description, just trust me.

I bring it up only because the lead character made the astute point that we, as people, always seek out more. As children we learn "more" is better: more kisses, more candy, more love. We learn in young adulthood "more" is expected: better grades, a better school than normal, better resumé.

But toward the closing of our college careers, i.e. our time of finding out who we are (at least for now), I wonder about the "more" I've been looking for.

First and foremost, I think I speak for all of us when I say I take on more than I should. With a full load, leadership positions, applying for jobs, etcetera, we all probably never expected a "stressed to the max" version of ourselves to be that which we strove for in college.

Americans are known as eating more food, marrying and divorcing more often, drinking more than anyone else, wanting more money, more power ...

Yet, I am most concerned about the "more" we look for when we look at one another. Is it not true that by our nature we want more friends, more love, more seriousness for more validity? Are we not constantly in search of the next relationship goal, whether it's the first anniversary or conversations about the "future"?

I wonder though if this asking for more from others can harm us instead of help. The constant wondering of when we get more leaves us void of the moment in which we are building that more on. The fear of not having more kills the intimacy one seeks.

And when we get more love, like too much candy, too much love can leave you in shock, if not sick. How many times have we or someone we know been too wrapped up in those they love, suckered into being more and doing more than they should because they are looking for, well, more.

As we all know, many college relationships deal with having too much. For instance, if you want, you can practically live with the person you date: sleep at their house, eat all your meals together, take classes together ... you get my point.

And if the judgment of outsiders is a good indicator, a lot of people, when they aren't dating someone, are not okay with this obsession for more. Haven't we all rightly wanted to gag at an overly gushy or dependent couple?

But why? Is it because we don't like when others have "more" than we do? Could be. Is it because anything in excess leads to trouble? Sure. But more than anything, I believe there may not be a reason to our emotions about the desire for or repulsion to "more" in our lives.

Maybe we live in a dilemma between what we want and what we loathe. Just as a college kid longs to go out and get sauced after grueling midterms, he is ready to kill himself the next morning when his hangover sets in.

So in this narrow place between not enough and too much is where we spend about 80 years trying to define ourselves: busy but balanced, in love but not dependent. We try and try to be "healthy," "normal," "adjusted" and so goes our story.

The difference between those who succeed and those who don't isn't much of anything except realizing we don't need 20 beers in one night, three pieces of cake for dessert or a self-compromising relationship to mean something to someone or to ourselves.

Like college, we are all in it together, so as we take on more to invariably become more, we need to realize the necessity of stopping every once in a while, stepping outside of our lives, our work, our "more," and just saying "hi" to the neighbors. And if you don't, someone will inevitably let you know when enough is enough and you are the most you need to be.

Callan's column runs bi-weekly on Tuesdays. She can be reached at blount@cavalierdaily.com.

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